


Confidence

by ParadifeLoft



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:52:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadifeLoft/pseuds/ParadifeLoft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a night's feasting draws to a close, Celebrimbor shares his enjoyment of Eregion's prosperity and status with Annatar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confidence

**Author's Note:**

> Crosspost of a fic originally on tumblr. Written for an informal challenge and thus illustrated (nsfw obviously) [here](http://crocstuff.tumblr.com/post/70218353847/annatar-celebrimbor-for-james-untitled-smut-unf) and [here](http://crocstuff.tumblr.com/post/70219186350/more-annatar-celebrimbor-also-inspired-by-james).

"Oh, he was being _such_ an ass,” Celebrimbor said, voice sure and amused with wine, before he turned laughing back to Annatar. The Maia waited indulgently for him with one hand light against the opened door. “Completely deserved getting showed up like that, running his mouth as though we don’t have _standards_ here, and half a hundred more knowledgeable apprentices…”

Annatar took the offered hand, and stepped along with him into Celebrimbor’s own chambers. “You don’t think doing so among a good portion of the wealthy and important here was a bit too much?” he said, a sardonic eyebrow raised. His eyes glittered with the light reflected from his smirk, golden and catlike above high, pale cheeks. Not even flushed yet, Celebrimbor noted with dismay; not even with the warmth of the full-to-bursting hall - his ears still rung with so many voices’ clamour - or of the brilliant flames in his hearth or of the mulled wine in both their cups.

Celebrimbor’s fingers twined in Annatar’s as he took another long draught from his jeweled goblet; and then he set it down, almost too carelessly, enough that the contents sloshed precipitously against the rim. They didn’t spill.

"No," he answered, simply. Some of the feastgoers back in the hall would have dressed it in slim, stiletto-point words, a haughty tilt of their chin and the barest quirk of their lips. Celebrimbor could play at that, a little, if he tried, but not this time; he did not… _enjoy_ , putting on such a manner, and was not all this a celebration of his work? This prosperity - his city, his selected apprentices and craftsmen, his family, his wishes for what this place would be - _his_ Maia, with the fabric of his robe creased where his leg met the side of the large cushioned chair, soft and rich to the touch; gifts for Celebrimbor of treasures and knowledge, and - himself…

"No, he should have known better. Remembered just who it is who has made this city prosper; how we won’t suffer fools or pretenses without them getting burned." He was rambling, he knew; not entirely sure as to the meaning of what came from his mouth but simply that it sounded good, even if what that sound was or how it related to Ost-in-Edhil, Celebrimbor couldn’t quite say. But he’d leaned close in to Annatar as he spoke, and gave a genuine, slightly dazed smile at the Maia (who gazed back at _him_ so adoringly, as though Celebrimbor was his own very special most dearest of treasures). A moment later he felt the light brush of heated fingertips through the brocade of his robe, tracing against his belly; heat curled inside then too, in response, a most unusual property of transfer.

It made him smile again, lips stretched and slightly parted, as he lowered his eyes and head - and then the rest of himself, slipping his hand from Annatar’s as he sank to his knees, palms splayed against muscled thighs instead.

Celebrimbor was quick at his work, parting the folds of Annatar’s robes and the fastening of his trousers, nose and mouth nearly touching even from the time he began, letting warm puffs of breath meet cloth meet skin. He was half-hard already, and he grew to full firmness as Celebrimbor let his tongue lave against the tip, his lips rub at the slit and then down the underside. When he took Annatar inside his mouth, his eyes closed in indulgence, languid and cossetted by a sweet endearment from Annatar’s own thoughts blossoming inside his own; and a tantalising sliver of his pleasure.

Light flickered patterns against walls and the form of a hip, the curve of muscle. Celebrimbor’s head bobbed a steady rhythm beneath their melody in sight; he could not help but a gasping breath sucked about Annatar’s cock when his fingers wove and tightened in Celebrimbor’s hair.

Not that his own hands were still; one braced him against Annatar’s thigh, tips of his fingers curling in near his chin to the space between Annatar’s legs; the other steady at the base until his own arousal began to press too insistently at the edges of his mind.

_Such a beautiful mouth_ , Celebrimbor heard, felt, he wasn’t sure, fuzzy as the ties of his thoughts were - but it was laced with short breaths, the enticing sound of Annatar’s voice full and sonorous. Celebrimbor’s hand began to stray down to his own erection, warm and pressing against the seam of his trousers - though he’d only just pulled away when Annatar’s hand grasped at his, lacing fingers and drawing Celebrimbor’s hand up above his head. Celebrimbor paused, tilting his head and his gaze up to catch his lover’s, warm and lusting and _devious_ in a way that set a sudden heady throb through Celebrimbor’s cock. His hips twitched, and a low rumble of a laugh came from Annatar’s throat.

"Wanting, love?" Annatar murmured, tracing his thumb against Celebrimbor’s palm, and he but just barely nodded, lips still stretched wide. In response, his glance fond and well-pleased, Annatar took Celebrimbor’s other hand as well, pulling them both up to match before drawing the sash from around his robe and winding it about his wrists.

Celebrimbor’s hands flexed as they were tied, and it did not do a thing to sate his longing - rather the opposite, heightening his sensitivity and the feeling of a current running beneath his skin, unable to find some place to spill out. Annatar slid himself from Celebrimbor’s mouth, and he nearly gave a small whine at the loss, before he was tugged up by the cloth around his hands, led as a leashed pet to his own bed.

A glance to the other man and he pulled himself by his elbows up onto the silken sheets of his mattress - helped by a firm hand lifting him beneath the cheeks of his arse and making him inhale sharply. The remaining length of the sash, Annatar took in his palms before securing them about the top beam of the headboard. Muscles in Celebrimbor’s arms stretched just slightly, a pleasant burn if he tugged himself in any one way - certainly any movement of his hips toward the bed.

Cool air, despite the fire still glowing in the hearth, brushed Celebrimbor’s heated skin when Annatar’s hands departed - though they were not gone for long, only the space of time needed for him to round the top of the bed, until he stood before Celebrimbor, thumb once again caressing his palms, light seeming to emanate from his skin as the fire reflected red and gold.

His cock bobbed before Celebrimbor’s face, and he positioned the head against his mouth, slicking Celebrimbor’s lips with the remaining sheen of saliva and precum.

Celebrimbor groaned, and Annatar’s brows curved his smile into a wicked smirk.


End file.
